


veritaserum

by justanonlinelove



Category: Original Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:28:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26962924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justanonlinelove/pseuds/justanonlinelove
Summary: this was actually very fun to write 10/10 would recommend writing your own versionthe title is so lame and nerdy i am so sorry
Kudos: 1





	veritaserum

**Author's Note:**

> this was actually very fun to write 10/10 would recommend writing your own version
> 
> the title is so lame and nerdy i am so sorry

i don't even remotely understand time zones. i mean i have a vague idea? but i can never convert anything.

netflix trip by ajr makes me cry. i have the experience of obsessing over something for years, and more of me than i like to admit comes from book characters. annabeth chase, leo valdez, evangeline mudd, hermione granger, lena duchannes, isadora quagmire, klaus baudelaire, lemony snicket, alaska young, tally youngblood, america singer, eadlyn schreave, kile woodwork, simon spier, nina(tuou), maximum ride. that's just a fraction.

i feel so lost so much of the time, but it's okay. my paths always lead back to the same people anyway.

i like cooking and baking because i feel productive and just pure good. it's always the most fun with friends.

i feel selfish. i don't know if i am.

i like to think that i give good gifts? although i guess i can't be sure. i wonder what people do with them when they leave. 

my tiny way to show affection is making people playlists. i hope they listen to them.

i know i can be oblivious, but i don't think i'm as oblivious as some people think i am. i guess i wouldn't know.

i've probably read the blood of olympus over 20 times, at _least_ , and i am only slightly ashamed.

i'm absolutely terrible at playing hearts. i just find the idea of shooting the moon so fun that i can't help but try. unfortunately, this leads to me losing half the time.

i am kind of sort of going through another harry potter phase? i am totally and completely ashamed of myself. i also still have internal debate about my house, but i can't deny getting the same pottermore results in fifth and tenth grade. nothing will be as bad as when i went to a harry potter festival though. i think i still have the letter i got to write.

i feel rather pretty more often lately.

when i dance, i completely break down. i'm not sure what triggers it, but looking at myself attempting dancing leads to complete and total breakdown, even on good days.

i'm not good with things i just can't understand, like math. or dancing. or love.

i'm scared of what i would do to myself if i went off my meds. 

i miss having a friend group, and having game nights, and stupid stuff like that. it's been a long time since i've had anything like that.

i know my parents aren't homophobic, but they cared when i dated a guy and they never take it seriously when i date girls. 

i kind of wish i had a girlfriend to tell that to.

i don't know if i can ever fall in love again. i'm not trying to be overdramatic or anything, i'm serious. quite simply, i just don't know if i can. it feels like it's just out of reach.

there are some people i might always hate. i don't even feel bad about it anymore.

i have an envelope with every page i had containing writing about one person in it. almost a year ago, i tore out all the pages and put them in one envelope. it's still sitting in my desk, because it's honestly a lot of writing, and i would feel bad getting rid of it. i don't think the person it's about knows it exists. i would give it to them if they ever wanted it. i've never actually opened it. i honestly forget about it half the time, and only remember when i'm looking through my desk.

misery is supposed to love company, but half the time i feel better off alone.

i know i dress like i listen to exclusively alt and indie music and the occasional cyberpop, but pop music is definitely my guilty pleasure. i live for ajr.

i guess my bad luck with love is what leaves me so fascinated with soulmate aus. the idea of planning a future with someone, being with someone who you know loves you back, not being afraid to love them- it all seems so unrealistic. those aren't things i would let myself have.

i wish i didn't have scars. physically, i mean. i just want them to not be there.

i love having my music loud. it's fulfilling, somehow.

i love nostalgia because it reminds me of times when i was undeniably happy.

i can't bring myself to believe in a god, and i can't explain why.

i'm terrible at spending my own money, which most likely comes from me not believing that i deserve anything.

there's a certain part of myself that i just find in poetry that i can't find anywhere else.

i wish people would just say things to my face. i can't explain why it bothers my so much when they don't.

there are people that don't think of me that i still wonder about every day.

i love music and poetry so much because someone has inevitably felt what i'm feeling, and it feels nice for it to be put into words when i can't.

i love getting new clothes, which is terrible and materialistic, but it's so much fun.

i have my keyboard on a setting so i can put accents on letters because it makes french class easier.

i don't like learning a second language; i'd rather learn everything i can about the one that i do speak.

i know that i can be too much sometimes. i'm sorry.

i don't think i'd be able to live without books. i read too much, and it's one of my most reliable coping mechanisms at this point.

i love relatable sad songs. heather by conan gray is one of my favorites because it reminds me too much of a sad situation i've been in. 

i know that i shouldn't identify with my depressive episodes, but some days they feel like the only discernible part of me.

i love fun words. i guess there's a reason one of my friends calls me human dictionary.

i'm absolutely terrible with word count. it's honestly a crime.

i love museums. i look for them in every city i visit. they're just fascinating.

sometimes, my intrusive thoughts are too much. i'm still haunted by the times i've genuinely considered laying in the middle of the road, or the time i filed a hairpin into a functional knife. i'm also kind of proud of that one, if i'm being honest, i know it wasn't a _good_ thing to do or anything but i felt very resourceful. it was very functional! i think i might just be proving my point about the intrusive thoughts.

i'm not very good at letting go.

i hate being reminded of old memories. i always end up thinking about what i could have done differently.

could i have done anything differently? made myself prettier? made myself easier? made myself more loveable? i don't know. i still think about it. i still try and shape myself into the girl that can be loved, rather than the one i am.

i wonder what makes me look so visibly mentally ill. probably the makeup, if i'm being honest. it's so frustrating, because the dumb kids that say stuff don't even know the least of it.

i wonder if i'm human. what makes us human?

i wonder what people would say to me if the world was in imminent danger of ending. i wonder what i would say to them.

i don't have people i could imagine spending forever with.

i'm genuinely surprised to be alive right now. i don't think i regret it right now.


End file.
